


Far Too Short a Time

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Incest, Kinky/Squicky Pairings, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By HalethFrodo realizes Bilbo is leaving the Shire
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Frodo Baggins
Kudos: 4
Collections: Least Expected





	Far Too Short a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: The Shire and everything and everyone in it are not mine. I'm sure that's just as well.  
> Story Notes: I have no idea where this story came from, or why I felt I had to write it down. I hope the hobbits will forgive me, because I'm not sure I will.

Bilbo had been acting rather peculiar for several days now. Perhaps it was to be expected that he would be more than a little excited, maybe even nervous about the upcoming party: surely the largest the Shire had ever seen. But as of late he seemed on edge, unusually terse, and even melancholy on occasion. Frodo's worry about his beloved older relation increased as the uncharacteristic behavior intensified, so when Bilbo invited him into his study the day before the party, with an air of unusual gravity, he'd followed without delay.

"What is the matter, Uncle?" Frodo called him by the inaccurate but affectionate title he reserved for the old hobbit, who was in fact a cousin of sorts.

"My dear boy," Bilbo replied as he reached the far end of the room and leaned stiffly on the windowsill, peering outside. He appeared pensive, framed in the circle of light, with his back towards Frodo as though he were afraid to face his younger relative and heir. At last he turned and began again, "My dear Frodo, have you given any thought as to what you shall do when - well, once I'm gone?" He paused, studiously examining a small object he'd pulled from his pocket - most likely the plain gold ring he'd brought back from his adventure; he seemed quite... attached to it. "I have of course willed Bag End, and all my property, to you. You will be quite comfortably off, I should think."

This declaration took Frodo aback. "Bilbo! Bilbo, my dear," he exclaimed, more than a little alarmed. "Are you ill? Why have you not spoken of it? We should summon a healer at once, if anything is amiss." The elderly hobbit actually looked anything but ill; in fact, he appeared to be in much better health than a nearly eleventy-one-year-old hobbit, or even a much younger one, had any good reason to expect. It was said among the older hobbits that he had barely aged at all in the last 60 years, since his trip to the Lonely Mountain, and Frodo well believed it.

"No, no, dear boy. Nothing like that. Although, one never knows just what tomorrow will bring, eh? Always best to be prepared." Bilbo shot a quick glance out from under his eyebrows before returning to his examination of the trinket in his hand. He did not look up again even when he'd placed the ring back in his pocket.

Frodo was more convinced than ever that something was going on. Surely Bilbo was keeping something from him. He stepped around the well-used table - really more of a desk, with little drawers underneath - and its assortment of books and papers and moved closer to Bilbo, almost touching him, and finally saw the tears slipping down Bilbo's cheeks. "What is all this talk of leaving, then, Bilbo?" he inquired softly. "I hope you don't mean anything by it. I should miss you horribly if you... left."

"I know, my dear, I know, and I shall miss you too, when I'm gone, terribly." Bilbo looked up at him now, and his clear eyes were filled with a great love, but also sorrow, and maybe a hint of guilt. "I am sorry," he said. "I should not be burdening you with and old hobbit's silly ramblings." Frodo couldn't help but feel the apology was for something other than the spoken words; Bilbo was expressing regret for... something he had done, or would do. Whether the apology was warranted or not, remained to be seen.

"Oh, Bilbo, don't worry," Frodo stepped forward and embraced the older hobbit reassuringly, even though he was himself very confused, and Bilbo clutched at him a little desperately. After some moments had passed his grip loosened, and Frodo drew back a little, still keeping Bilbo in the circle of his arms. To his surprise, Bilbo leaned forward, following his movements, then touched his lips to Frodo's softly. His older cousin's lips were firmer than his own, yet evidently capable of extreme gentleness. Once Frodo was over his initial shock, he found he was quite enjoying the kiss. He felt a great affection welling up in him for this old hobbit, who had taken him in when he was without family, taken good care of him, taught him everything he knew, shared all he had, made him his heir. Slowly he leaned into Bilbo, trying to demonstrate his love and gratitude to the one hobbit who had been almost everything to him for more than ten years.

The kiss went on for many long seconds before Bilbo pulled back, whispering, "Sorry, I'm sorry, Frodo, I should not have done that."

"But Bilbo, I, I don't mind," Frodo protested, "It's all right, it's all right, my dear." He caressed the elder hobbit's graying curls tenderly, and felt at that moment that he would give him anything he asked for, and it would still be less than Bilbo deserved. Not finding the words to say so, instead he lowered his head and kissed Bilbo again, lovingly tracing the contours of his mouth with his lips, while they both tightened their arms around each other and pressed their bodies closer together.

"I've a mind," murmured Bilbo almost into Frodo's mouth, "to give you an early birthday present." He pulled back enough to look into his companion's eyes while lightly caressing his cheek. Frodo noted that his gaze was direct for the first time that day; it warmed him, to see Bilbo less distant than he'd been for some days.

"All... all right," Frodo whispered his reply. He was shivering slightly, in mixed anticipation and apprehension. What was Bilbo planning? A continuation of their present activity might be enjoyable... indeed, it seemed Bilbo was of the same mind. He was quickly and quietly unbuttoning Frodo's waistcoat as he resumed his kissing, teasing Frodo's lips with his tongue, kissing more deeply when Frodo opened his mouth in a little gasp of pleased surprise, until their tongues were stoking each other softly while Bilbo swallowed Frodo's muffled whimpers.

Soon his waistcoat and shirt were on the floor, and Bilbo's hands were roaming over his exposed back, then his sides, his arms, his chest. Frodo yelped out loud when fingers calloused from long use of a pen closed on one of his nipples, pinching it gently. He was already beyond being able to speak, so lost was he in desire and the surprise of the moment. He spoke with his own hands instead; fondling every part of Bilbo he could reach, somewhat awkwardly removing the intervening clothes, until they were both naked from the waist up. He hazily realized Bilbo was now slowly kissing his way down Frodo's body, and tugging at the ties of his breeches. In a moment they were rumpled at his ankles, and he stepped back just enough to kick them out of the way. He found himself almost pushed up against the low table, and before he could realize his intention to step back even nearer to Bilbo, the older hobbit had moved in close, practically on his knees before him.

Frodo felt a warm mouth exploring the skin of his abdomen, and was hard put not to moan out loud. He wanted to be kissing Bilbo, but contented himself with caressing his hair and shoulders with his hands as a damp tongue dipped into his naval, then trailed over his hip bone, and further down, tracing the line between hip and thigh, then even lower as Bilbo nibbled his way down Frodo's leg, until finally he pushed Frodo back to sit on the desk, and then he was lifting Frodo's foot, massaging it, combing his fingers through the hair, while gently licking and sucking on his toes. Soon he moved to the other foot, and then began moving his way back up, gently nipping at Frodo's skin all the way.

After what seemed like an endless amount of time to Frodo, Bilbo was caressing his other hip with his mouth, while one of his hands drew little circles on Frodo's unusually flat hobbit stomach, and the other pressed lightly at the small of his back. Then he looked up at Frodo with a question, and a look somewhere between lust and adoration in his eyes. Frodo nodded mutely - the control he'd lost over his voice all those minutes ago had not returned: he could only utter a kind of high pitched whimper, which was escaping from his mouth with increasing regularity - and the hand on his stomach moved lower, and enveloped him, warm and firm and all he thought he could ever want. He could no longer restrain his cries, wailing softly as the hand was replaced by something even warmer, and decidedly wet.

If Frodo had been supporting his weight on his feet, his knees would have buckled at that moment, but as the sensation grew more familiar, he found himself pushing forward until he was almost standing again in an effort to get even closer to Bilbo. The old hobbit helped, tightening his arms around Frodo's back, pulling the two of them together. Now he let one hand trail down to explore the back of Frodo's thigh, while the other massaged his back firmly, in ever lowering circles. Slowly his hands moved towards each other, lifting and pushing Frodo more firmly into him, until they converged on Frodo's buttocks, cupping them firmly, then separating them gently so the fingers of one hand could slip between. Unconsciously Frodo spread his legs slightly, allowing Bilbo to explore him more thoroughly.

Then Bilbo removed his hand, using it to open a drawer in the desk, just behind and to Frodo's side. He rummaged in the drawer blindly, without ceasing his other ministrations, and pulled out a little jar. Frodo recognized it to contain a salve usually used for the healing and protection of small scrapes and similar injuries. It smelled sweetly of lavender. Bilbo cupped the jar firmly in his palm, prying the lid off with the fingers of the same hand, then he set the jar on the desk, and dipped his fingers in it.

When he felt a slick fingertip enter him, Frodo jerked and gasped, a little hitch in the high whine that had been emanating from his throat for several minutes, and the finger popped out. He hadn't meant to do that, and looked down at Bilbo, who released Frodo from his mouth also, with a last little lick and kiss, and rocked back on his heels to look up at Frodo with mingled hurt and apology. Seeing the contrition in Frodo's eyes, and the way he reached out for Bilbo, he relented, and leaned forward again to resume stroking with lips and tongue while Frodo tensed rhythmically into him.

When the old hobbit had taken Frodo as deep into his mouth as possible, Frodo felt for his hand, and caressed it with his own gently, before kissing it and placing it as near as he could reach to where he had so abruptly and inadvertently removed it before. This time he did not flinch when a nimble finger entered him, instead grinding himself down on Bilbo, inviting more, and his cousin complied, teasing him open with a second finger, and then a third.

Frodo was reeling, unsure how much more he could take, when Bilbo withdrew, stood up and embraced him, then spoke for the first time in many minutes. "Are you all right, lad?" When Frodo nodded shakily, Bilbo kissed him, gently at first, slowly increasing the pressure until they were kissing deeply. He took Frodo's hands and placed then at his waist, right at the top hem of his breeches, and held them there suggestively. Frodo understood, and after rubbing Bilbo's sides gently, his slipped his hands under the fabric and moved backwards slightly, separating his own lean stomach from Bilbo's rounded one. Then he smoothed his fingers over Bilbo's skin, in a circle around his waist until he found the buckle to his belt and, fumbling, opened it, allowing the fine cloth to drop to the floor.

As soon as the last of his clothing was discarded Bilbo pressed again as close to Frodo as he could, brushing a sweat-dampened curl from his cheek before kissing it. He reached to the side, catching the edge of the cushion on the chair which had been pushed to the side of the table, and lifted and placed it on the table behind Frodo, who was busily tasting the side of his neck in between great gasps of air, and reaching down with his hands to feel the parts of Bilbo that had just been uncovered.

Very gently Bilbo guided him backwards, until he was leaning on the desk, then reclining on it, hips cradled by Bilbo's chair cushion. They stayed in that position briefly, Bilbo leaning over, his belly resting on Frodo, touching his forehead to Frodo's chest. When he lifted his head up, Frodo threw his arms around his neck, pulling himself up far enough to touch Bilbo's lips with his own; caressing them tenderly with his tongue. He knew what was coming next, and wiggled his hips, thrusting up slightly into Bilbo's stomach in anticipation. This earned him a small but affectionate smile from Bilbo, who reached again for the little jar of slippery salve.

After another quick kiss, Bilbo stood up, applying salve to himself with one hand, parting Frodo's legs with the other. Frodo was compliant, raising his legs and resting his ankles on Bilbo's waist, and Bilbo turned his face, nuzzling the inside of Frodo's knee, then kissing it playfully. Now he leaned forward a little again, while Frodo wrapped his legs around the old hobbit, drawing him closer. They were looking into each other's eyes as Bilbo finally entered Frodo, and almost immediately Frodo resumed the keening noise he had been making earlier.

Bilbo's lovemaking was gentle and slow. When at last he was entirely sheathed in Frodo, they held still, savoring their union for what seemed an eternity of pleasurable harmony, soothed by the intimate contact. Finally, Bilbo dropped light kisses on Frodo's chest and began rocking carefully, gradually increasing tempo as Frodo responded by pushing back into him. Bilbo was whispering Frodo's name over and over, and his voice was a song to Frodo's ears.

The delicious physical sensation combined with the heady rush of emotions overtook Frodo quickly now; he could feel heat and love building in his body until it suddenly spilled out, and finally regaining his voice he called out to Bilbo, who was shuddering before him, then collapsed on Frodo's chest. The two hobbits mumbled endearments to each other and kissed fervently for some minutes, before Bilbo rolled off of Frodo and stood up. He grabbed a shirt from the floor to dab at Frodo's sticky stomach tenderly, then kissed the soft skin there with a fond smile. Then he pulled the younger hobbit up into an embrace so tight Frodo almost thought he might suffocate.

"Will you stay with me tonight, Frodo? Keep an old hobbit company. I should hate to miss a minute I could spend with you, before..." he trailed off. "You know I love you very much."

"Yes, dear Bilbo, as I love you," and Frodo smiled warmly through his sudden fear and tears. Bilbo took him into his arms and cradled him, while Frodo sobbed softly, finally believing that this had not been a beginning but a good-bye, wanting desperately to ask Bilbo to stay, to live there under The Hill with him forever, and knowing his plea wouldn't change anything at all.

"You're really going then, leaving the Shire?" Frodo finally asked, hoping he was wrong, but Bilbo squeezed him gently in acknowledgement. "Please, I want to go with you," but they both knew it wasn't true, not yet.

"My boy, your time will come. Someday you will leave on your own adventure. I'm sure we will see each other again, I'm certain of it. This is not goodbye forever, you know." Bilbo looked earnestly into the young hobbit's still-flushed face, searching for understanding. Frodo almost smiled, then kissed him, so Bilbo continued, "Now, don't we have party business to attend to?" and with that, they separated, and dressed, and left the room, hand in hand, to face together for the last time what the day would bring. 


End file.
